Anyone has a right to be suspicious of claims that appear extravagant, but, upon reflection, I genuinely believe this is the finest historical novel written in English, at least in the twentieth century (I suppose we should count "Vanity Fair" and "A Tale of Two Cities" as historicals, but none of poor, old Walter Scott's works compete). Its foreign language competition is limited to a handful of books, From "War and Peace," "The Leopard," and "The Forty Days of Musa Dagh," to "Am Himmel wie auf Erden," "Vor dem Sturm," and "I Promessi Sposi." Thomas Flanagan is simply a brilliant writer--lucid, thoroughly-engaging, controlled and masterful. His prose is flawless. Except for "The Leopard," I know of no historical novel that so richly and convincingly captures the ambience of a bygone world. The weather and the feel of chilled mud, the prejudice of blood, the nuances of the social order and the confusion of military operations, the errors and casual oversights that shape lives, and the interplay of great events and individual tragedies are all so perfectly interwoven and gracefully presented that the reader forgets this is only a novel and enters another reality. Of course, all this will sound like hyperbole to those who have not yet read this book--but once you have read it, you will find it haunts you for a long time. I've given several copies to cherished friends, as I also have done with Penelope Fitzgerald's "The Blue Flower" (which might have been a competitor for "best historical," were it not such a transcendent book that it won't be characterized by any genre). This is a wonderful book--please read it and help keep it in print.